


Canis Lupus

by WinterXAssassin



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, After Action Patch Up, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Epic Battles, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Halo: Reach, Military, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Science Fiction, Team Feels, Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, black ink, but not necessarily the good kind, but that doesn't mean they don't act like Actual Siblings, but there's also, it's there. it exists, none of these idiots are related, so much black ink, somehow i can write action scenes, there is so much stubbornness and butting of heads, well TECHNICALLY SPEAKING....., what is up with these stubborn Spartans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2019-12-18 07:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18245075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterXAssassin/pseuds/WinterXAssassin
Summary: For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.—Rudyard Kipling,The Jungle BookNever was a statement any more unbelievable to a Spartan considered to be a lone wolf.	And yet, never was there a wolf who could survive for so long without a pack to run with. Desperate times call for desperate measures, no doubt. But in times of desperation, can a pack form a bond that's stronger than ever before, to face a foe greater than any man has ever known?





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, I uh, I had an idea. And whoops, a new fic. Another Reach AU because I can't help myself. This one is gonna be....interesting. Darker than my usual side of darkness (what a surprise). Ye have been duly warned.
> 
> ....Enjoy! :D
> 
> Also, this chapter was beta'ed by the lovely jackalopingintothevoid (if I knew how to html link into these things, I'd link you to her profile); much kudos to you, you kind, generous, and helpful soul! <3

“I heard we’ve got our new recruit comin’ in today. That right, Kat?” was the first thing out of Emile’s mouth as he strode into what the Spartans considered to be the rec room of the tiny, boxy outpost they called “home”, and had done for the past two months since being deployed to the planet Reach.

“Always so nosy.” Jorge rumbled without looking up from his current task, his machine gun _Etilka_ in pieces around him, as he methodically worked on cleaning his favoured weapon.

The Lieutenant Commander clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and shook her head. “What else do you expect from him?” she answered to Jorge, before voicing a response to the question posed by the nosy assault specialist. “Yes, Emile, our new Noble Six. And I expect you to treat them nicely. No matter how much it all… stings….” A sharp, exasperated sigh left her, and she shook her head a second time. “There I go again, damn it.”

“Don’t we all?” Emile asked rhetorically, producing a kukri from the sheath on his right shoulder pauldron, twirling the knife around in his fingers. “I mean, it’s been…what, three months? Maybe? I’m no Jorge or even Jun, but all wounds take time.” His mood shifted out of the blue, and he bared his teeth in a grin reminiscent of a hinge-head flaring its mandibles in imitation of a human smile. Seemed like a strange analogy, but more often than not, that was the sort of effect that the Warrant Officer’s grins had on other people. Even his fellow Spartans. “So, tell me, what kinda intel you got on the newbie? I’m sure that by now you _must_ have cracked their file wide open.”

“ _Nosy_.” Jorge reiterated, snapping a piece of his machine gun back into place with a _click_ that emphasized his point.

Kat rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the all-too-familiar bickering of NOBLE’s assault specialist and heavy weapons specialist. Regardless of that, she still chose to answer Emile’s next question. “I’ve hacked about forty-nine percent of her file; maybe more, maybe less. I don’t know how deep it runs. There’s a _lot_ of black ink, and a lot of encryptions and firewalls. I’ve found a few vid feeds-”

But Emile interrupted her. “Hold up, you said ‘her file’. So that’s one thing we know for sure. Our new teammate is a girl.”

“That may be the case; however, I have no doubt she can hold her own against any of us, except perhaps Jorge.” Kat answered, and there was a fierce spark in her azure eyes. “Our new Noble Six is _formidable_ , even among the best Spartan-IIIs.”

Jun marked his arrival by a low whistle, as he peered over Kat’s shoulder at the datapad she held in one hand. He was as nosy as Emile, sometimes, although certainly as notorious as his fellow soldier. “No kidding. This file labels her as a ‘hyper-lethal vector’.”

The assault specialist snorted, tossing his kukri in the air, bright green eyes tracking it as it spun, spun, a glittering arc, before he caught it deftly with two fingers. “We’ll have to see her in action to prove that’s not just someone with an inflated ego proud of their little… what did Carter say she was? Black ops Spartan?” He snorted again, eyes rolling. “Private grim reaper for some ONI spook.”

Jorge eyed his younger comrades, silent, his hands still now that _Etilka_ was in one piece. Unlike them, he would not formulate any sort of early opinion on the team’s new Six. He was not so quick to judge, and although he was not as good as figuring people out as Jun was, he certainly knew clear enough whether or not a Spartan would slot into the team’s pre-established dynamics nicely. Also unlike them, he had no interest in poking about at the new soldier’s file. It simply did not sit right with him; he was more content with letting each member of the team tell of their past in their own way, in their own time, on their terms. And if they never did? Well, he would be content with that; he knew how to trust someone despite what they had done in the past. If they proved themselves to be a valuable ally, then he would be all for them fighting alongside him.

“So she’s got more black ink in her file than the rest of us.” Jun shrugged one shoulder, melting into the shadows in one corner of the room. “Not going to be a problem unless it either bites us in the ass, or she turns out to be another Ares.”

“You weren’t even there for that.” Kat informed him bluntly, gaze intently on the files before her rather than on Jun as she spoke, fingers dancing neatly over the screen of her datapad. “…However, I see your point. It would not be any good if-” A moment's pause, followed by, “Oh.”

“Please tell me that ‘oh’ is a good sound and not one of dismay.”

“Knowing Kat, it could be both.” Emile said derisively, and held the newcomer’s gaze steadily; ignoring the heavy frown he received in response to his comment. “What? You know it’s true.”

“Don’t start with your bullshit again, Four.” The team’s leader, Carter, crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head and leaning against the doorframe. Of all the things he had to come in from patrol to find his team doing, it had to be _this_.

“Too late, he’s already begun.” Jun muttered, and snorted at Emile’s disgusted squawk of protest.

Kat rolled her eyes and set her datapad aside, before voicing an answer to the question the Commander had given her. “Honestly? It’s kind of good, I suppose. Took me a minute but I recognize the tag of our new recruit. She and I were on a team together during training. We were… close.” She shrugged, almost nonchalant, and added, “Something tells me that we’re not going to be so close now.”

The older Spartan raised an eyebrow. “I’d hope that that isn’t going to affect your performance on the team. Distractions like that are costly.”

The cryptanalyst raised her head, chin jutting out defiantly, azure eyes twinkling with fire. She did not appreciate the thinly veiled threat. Despite how well she knew her boss, sometimes the things he said just got to her. She should not have let it, but this particular moment _did_ , and she could not help her attitude. “I’ll let you know the moment it compromises me enough to have an effect, Commander, but I don’t think that’s likely to occur.”

He gave her a nod. “Glad to hear it.” His keen gaze shifted towards Emile, setting his jaw at the sight of how lax the assault specialist looked. That was always a sign that the Spartan was ready to fire up and stir trouble, and that would have to be quelled immediately. Tensions were already high enough with the fact that the Commander had not hand-picked the new team member; that Holland had chosen this Spartan as a replacement for Thom. None of them liked the idea of it. But Carter did not want their new Noble Six to feel alienated; the in-fighting with Jorge and Emile was bad enough, and he did not want any of that to be directed towards her.

As difficult as it would be for him, Carter was going to do his best to make sure the Spartan felt welcome on the team… no matter how set some of them were on being hostile.


	2. Welcome To Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Woo, I'm back at it again, ladies & gents!  
> At long last, the lone wolf joins NOBLE Team ;)
> 
> Many huge thanks to Corey-067 (Aliit_Netra) for helping me through this chapter and the next; once again if I could link html, I would link you to his profile

_I am Sierra Bravo-Three-One-Two. I am Noble Six. I am a Spartan; I am a Lieutenant. I am a lone wolf, set to join a pack. My team is people I must learn to trust, but I must also maintain distance._

The Spartan whose superiors labeled her as a _hyper-lethal vector_ opened her eyes, feeling the wind on her face as it whipped past the Warthog. She stared at the steel grey helmet that rested in her lap, admiring for a moment the visor of bright blue, rubbing a gauntleted thumb over the material, before her gaze drifted out to the landscape around her. Her coppery red hair was blown out behind her like a streamer of fire, and she relished in the sensation. It was good to revel in the simple things, the little things; this would, perhaps, be one of the last times she would ever take her helmet off.

This new team she was going to be a part of, NOBLE, would not get the chance to see her face, to study her, to work out what kind of person she was. She was nameless, she was faceless. She was simply there to fill in the gap left by the death of another teammate some months ago; she would do her job, and she would not make an impact upon the other Spartans. She did not wish to get close to anyone; she worked better alone.

Once, a long time ago, she’d been known as Artemis-B312. But as the years had gone by, and she’d come to work under a branch of the Office of Naval Intelligence known as ‘Project: COLD MOON’, she soon came to be known simply as B312. No more, and no less. She was not a face, she was not a person. She was a number, a weapon; that was the only purpose she served in life.

Her train of thought was broken into by the Trooper sitting beside her, a fresh-faced Sergeant by the name of T. Vargas. “Ever been to Reach before, ma’am?” She had to suppress a groan at how curious he sounded; she hoped that her current companion wasn’t chatty. She wanted to enjoy the last moments of feeling alone, before she had to join this fireteam of Spartans, an event that was out of her control.

“First time.” She was lying through her teeth. She’d been born here; she just hadn’t been back in fifteen years. For a Spartan, that was practically an eternity.

“Mine too!” His rejoinder was cheerful. Once again, the Lieutenant found herself suppressing a long-suffering groan. Couldn’t he tell that she did not want to be having _any_ conversation? She supposed he would have found it difficult to read her body language through her armour, but her face was visible enough. Time and again she’d been told by her superiors that it was her expression that had given her away. She closed her eyes, and nodded along, pretending that she was interested.

Pretend. Something she’d done for so long. She was good at it; it had become as second nature to her as firing a gun. It was one of many reasons why she’d made a damned good black ops soldier.

Her eyes snapped open as the Trooper spoke again, her attempts to drown him out failing miserably. “It’s kinda daunting, though, I have to admit. So many Spooks here. And the security really is next level. Gotta be, what with this our military fortress world and all. Heh.”

The Spartan ground her teeth together, and forced a smile; doubtless it would not have reached her eyes. It never did. She’d not smiled for real for a _very_ long time. She did not _want_ to engage him, and yet, it looked as though he was going to keep talking regardless of whether she spoke or not. “Given the amount of ancient alien artifacts they’ve uncovered here over the years…” she offered, casually, and it was hard to keep her mouth from flickering into a smirk when she saw the Sergeant’s eyes widen.

“No _way_.” He shook his head, and the amazement was clear as day in his voice. “You’re kidding, right? No wonder there’s…. Shit, I don’t know whether that’s cool or terrifying.”

 _Bingo_.

That would keep him quiet for the rest of the trip. Classified tidbits like that always worked in such a manner. More than once, she’d found being under the command of ONI to be beneficial to herself, particularly when it came to weaseling her way out of conversations… or worming her way _into_ them.

* * *

Sierra B312 heard the driver tell her that they were almost at her destination, choosing to ignore the comment as it was drowned out in the hiss of her helmet sealing onto her armour. Not wanting to listen to another word that came out of his mouth, she instead focused on the sounds that were coming from the ’Hog. The pitch shift and whine that she could hear even more clearly now, that distinctive sound that was somehow both grating and smooth at the same time; all too familiar, and perhaps, in a way, comforting. She knew that they were coming to a rolling stop – the Sergeant preferring not to use the brakes unless he had to, for some reason – because of the number of times she’d heard the deepening timbre of the vehicle's engine as her talkative companion had slowed to go over bumps. Before it’d gotten to its typical, growling idle, the Spartan was already leaping from the Warthog, more than glad to see the back of it. The Marine honked the horn at her retreating form before the engine geared up once, pitch raising once again, its wheels spinning briefly before it vanished.

There was a sense of… not anticipation, that seemed like the wrong feeling. Apprehension, perhaps, was what sat in her gut. It was going to be a very, _very_ different deployment to the ones she was used to. No longer would she be a solo operative; she would have to re-learn how to work as part of a team. It was not going to be easy, to say the least.

For just a heartbeat she lingered, before striding towards the outpost, head held high, natural Spartan pride written in every line of her armoured body – something that would have been noticed only by the members of Noble Team. And something she _definitely_ wanted to be made known to them. She was _not_ the type to be intimidated.

As she passed by one of two UH-144 Falcons, she could not help but reach out and pat the tail fin closest to her on the way past; with her pace slowing half a fraction, she was able to get a better look at the Spartan who sat inside the cabin of the helicopter.

_Rifleman. Likely sharpshooter and scout, given the armour configs and colouring, and the sniper rifle that rests beside him. Discerning gaze. Calculated, calm. Probably sizing me up as much as I’m doing the same to him. I doubt he’s the type to let much slip past without his notice._

As B312 drew closer to the base, she was able to hear a voice from inside; someone with an air of authority, but who also sounded tired, in a way; someone issuing orders, and giving a rundown of the situation that the Lieutenant was about to enter into, with her new team. Whether this was the team’s leader, she could not tell; something told her that it perhaps was the team’s superiors in the UNSC.

“Contact with Visegrád Relay was lost last night. All signals flatlined at twenty-six hundred hours. I responded with Trooper fireteams, which have since been declared MIA.”

A second voice chimed in, again with that air of authority, but this time, they sounded like they were verbally assessing what they were being told. “And now you’re sending us.”

The first voice was cool, unperturbed even, as they added, “The Office of Naval Intelligence believes deployment of a Spartan team is a gross misallocation of valuable resources. I disagree.” To the Lieutenant, it sounded like this man was the team’s superior within the UNSC, as she had suspected. The other voice must have belonged to NOBLE’s leader.

She allowed herself to wonder, for the briefest of moments, what kind of working relationship the Spartan commander had with his superior. As quickly as the thought arrived, she banished it. It was not her place to question how this team operated. She had her place among them, and it was as simple as that. Her job was to follow orders, and to get things done.

B312 stepped up into the base, and paused for a moment to examine the EVA-helmeted Spartan with a skull decorated onto his visor, and a wicked-looking kukri knife which he was scraping upon his shoulder pauldron to sharpen it. A shotgun was slung across his back, magnetically locked into place, and she silently noted the bandolier of shotgun shells on his right forearm.

_Likely the assault specialist, or perhaps close-quarters. Maybe both. Wonder if they’ll be one of those “nutcases”, or if they have their emotions under control._

Before she could move deeper into the room she’d found herself in, however, a prosthetic arm shot out, blocking her path. The owner stepped into her path, and the Lieutenant found herself face-to-face with someone _very_ familiar to her. Someone she’d once considered being very dear to her. But now… Well, seven years was a _long_ time for Spartans to be apart. And she’d changed. This Spartan, though? Only time would tell how much _she_ had changed over the years.

_Catherine-B320. Kat. We were best friends, as cadets. Nothing could tear us apart. Perhaps war has changed things. Maybe she’s more jaded, or more cynical, than I remember. Not my concern now. So long as it doesn’t affect our battlefield performance, it is something I will keep behind me._

She watched as narrowed azure eyes assessed her keenly, the other Spartan not quite scowling, but neither was the expression on her features a friendly one. For a beat, it was almost impossible to resist the urge to snarl at her, but she quashed the impulse. The older woman then turned her face towards the other Spartans in the room, and her not-quite frosty voice rang out to grab someone’s attention. “Commander.”

The other two Spartans’ gazes fell to her. One looked over his shoulder briefly, and for half a second she felt almost _mesmerized_ as she looked into his deep blue eyes; that sensation passed as quickly as it had come, and some of her old dislike for authority figures flared up to take its place. The other Spartan leaned in, as if to get a better look, his eyes as discerning as the rest, yet his countenance gentle. His size alone indicated that he was not of her caliber – that he was a Spartan-II, a cut above the rest.

“So… you’re our new number six.” His voice rumbled as he spoke, and B312 caught the undertones of a Hungarian accent, which indicated to her that he was, perhaps, native to Reach.

However, there was something _else_ in his voice, something assessing, and the way he’d summarized her new role as part of the team, had her lifting her chin and looking directly into his eyes as she voiced a reply. “Damn straight.” Even though he could not see her face, she had no doubt that he would have _felt_ the intensity of her stare from beneath her visor regardless.

She heard the skull-helmed Spartan give a quiet snigger of amusement, followed by a sharp, quiet reprimand from Catherine of, “Don’t be _rude_.” She chose to ignore both, and focused instead on eyeing the big Spartan, wondering what were the thoughts that ran through his head. If he _was_ a Spartan-II, she had no doubt that he would form his own opinion on her, no matter how close he might have been to the other Spartans on the team. He was the type of person not to be swayed so easily by others’ opinions; he would stick to his own beliefs.

“Kat, you read her file?” was what was next out of the skull-helmed Spartan, and her gut told her that he was definitely the nosy type. _That_ would be a handful to deal with, should he decide to start interrogating her on her history.

“Only the parts that weren’t covered in black ink,” the aqua-armoured Spartan answered coolly, sounding entirely confident in her technological abilities, “And there was a _lot_ of black ink.”

 _Didn’t you realize,_ her inner voice sneered at the other soldiers, _that black ink is there for a reason? Project: COLD MOON doesn’t want you – or anyone – knowing what I’ve done. A lot of unethical missions are listed in my file. And if word got out about those, it wouldn’t be so much a problem for them as it is for you. That’s not to mention that most of my ops were highly classified anyway._

The Lieutenant held her tongue, and instead continued to stand there silently, observing as the team’s leader turned his back on the conversation, and focused once more on the holographic computer, through which he was communicating with his superior. “Anyone claim responsibility, Sir?”

She drowned out the ensuing conference, and so, five minutes later, had not realized that the Spartan leader had spoken, until he was standing in front of her, expecting a response. Half a beat, and she managed to recall that he’d summoned her by rank. He was clearly awaiting her to address him in a similar manner, and she expelled the air from her lungs in a slow breath, drawing in the next lot of air just as slowly.

“Commander. Sir.” Succinct, and restrained. That would give him a good gauge as to what kind of Spartan she was, and what he could anticipate from her in future.

His head canted to one side, eyes flicking down, up, down, before meeting her gaze. And then, “So, what do we call you? Arty? Artemis? Art?”

B312 gritted her teeth, keeping hold of her temper. “B312 or Noble Six is fine. Even Lieutenant will suffice. It's been that way since I became a Spartan, and I don’t plan on changing it.” Another lie falling easily from her lips. But it had a purpose. None of these soldiers would be allowed to call her by her name. She was not a name; she was simply a number. She was not a face; she was a visor. She was not a human being; she was a weapon. That was the purpose she served. And she would make damn well sure her new teammates knew that.

He appraised her a moment longer, before giving a silent nod. Seemed like he wasn’t bothered by her obvious attitude; he’d clearly dealt with Spartans who were short-fused before. “Six, then. I’m Carter, Noble One, team leader. Jun out there in the Falcon; he’s Noble Three, our sniper. Kat by the door is Noble Two, cryptanalyst and my executive officer. Emile and Jorge are the others; Noble Four is our assault specialist, and Noble Five is our heavy weapons guy; can’t miss him.”

“We should get moving, Commander. Time is of the essence.” Catherine called from halfway out the door. Jorge and Emile both rose and followed her outside; when the lone wolf turned to join them, however, a single motion from the Commander had her lingering, expressionless even with the helmet blocking her face from his view.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Lieutenant, when I tell you that you’re stepping into some shoes that the rest of the squad would rather leave unfilled. Thom was an integral part of the team, and we were all of us close to him, just as we are to one another. Me, I’m just happy to have this team back up to full operational strength.”

_I know all of this. Why are you telling me?_

B312 stood silently and listened, one hand curling into a fist. What was his point, here? Was he trying to get under her skin? Was he trying to concrete the established fact that _he_ was the authority, and that what he said was what went? It was frustrating, trying to get a read on him.

The other Spartan’s voice turned deadly serious, as he continued with his talking to her – although it felt, to her, more like he was talking _at_ her. “One last thing: I’ve seen your file. Even the parts the ONI censors didn’t want me to.”

She cursed under her breath, but voiced no objection. Of _course_ he’d read all of her file. Of _course_ he’d seen through all of the black ink. So he knew the stains in her history. So _what_? It wasn’t like he didn’t have the right to do so. He was her superior officer, and he wanted to know what he was getting into. It was _his_ team. It made sense.

So why did she still feel so pissed off about it?

 _It’s a breach of your privacy, that’s what. And besides, he might just be exaggerating. There’s no way he would have been able to dig that deep – his XO is apparently a cryptanalyst and she stated that even_ she _hadn’t got that far. I very much doubt that COLD MOON would have given him the “cleaned up” version of my file. They’re the ones keeping all these secrets in the first place._

“I’m glad to have someone of your caliber and with your skillset on my team. Here’s the thing though: _we’re a team_. So that lone wolf behaviour of yours? It stays _behind_. I hope we’re clear.” His eyes narrowed, just a fraction, and his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. It must have been his manner of intimidating her; she wasn’t going to let the expression her new Commander bore upon his countenance faze her.

“Crystal. Sir.” Her voice was ice cold, calm, controlled. She was not going to let her temper get the better of her. Emotions were a human thing, and she was not going to allow herself to slip any longer. She _would_ prove to these Spartans that once and for all, she was just a title given to an armoured shell.

The blue-armoured Spartan followed her wordlessly out of the base, clambering into the Falcon after her as he paused to motion the other helicopter into the air.

“Carter give you the rundown on what to expect?” Jun queried, his manner casual, Slavic burr flowing smoothly from his lips. His gaze never left hers, and for a moment, she wondered if he could see through all the layers of armour she wore – physical and emotional.

B312 snorted at him as she settled into her seat, hands resting on her thighs. “You could say that,” she dismissed carelessly, “That’s just him being a leader though, isn’t it.”

The sound of the rifleman’s laughter was drowned out by the thumping of rotor blades as the Falcons lifted off, soaring away to wherever their destination lay.


	3. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: TWO chapters in one day, I hear you say! Well, this chapter and _Welcome To Reach_ were originally written as ONE chapter, but the length got WAY out of hand (just over 9K words!!) and I decided to split it into two, for better pacing and whatnot.  
> Hope you enjoy the second lot of excitement I have in store for you all :D
> 
> P.S. song lyrics taking from _Without You_ by Breaking Benjamin. which is, sadly, a song that really fits the Spartans in general

The flight out was muted, save for the quiet banter that the other Spartans partook in. The lone wolf chose to opt out; it wasn’t really her thing, and besides that, it felt like she was intruding. She was not a part of this team like the others were; nor would she ever be. She was just a replacement; only there to get the job done, without affecting the team otherwise.

B312 was all but a statue, save for the fact that she’d pulled one of many combat knives out of its sheath, and was spinning it around in her fingers. It was not so much as she needed something to do, as it was an old habit of hers. And it had never harmed anyone. Well, unless she’d intended it to, of course.

After fifteen minutes of this, a trickle came to the back of her mind, music of some kind; could not really remember who had sung it or when it had been released. It was old, and familiar, was as much as she knew, and it was impossible to resist half-singing, half-mumbling the words aloud over TEAMCOM. “Search for the answers I knew all along. I lost myself, we all fall down. Never the wiser, of what I’ve become. Alone I stand, a broken man.” So what if the others heard her? It wasn’t like they were—

It felt like a cold shock ran down her spine. Someone _else_ had joined in, and it was the person she’d least expected. Just for a beat, two beats, she listened, before harsh irritation cut in and she’d decided that she’d heard enough.

“All I have, is one last chance. I won’t turn my back on you. Take my hand, drag me down. If you fall, then I will too. And I can’t save what’s left of you.”

“Don’t do that, Commander.” she said coldly, and it felt like ice had seeped into her bones. Damn him. Why did he think he had to join in?

“Don’t do what?” To her, it sounded like he was pretending to be innocent, or perhaps he really _didn’t_ know what she’d meant. Either way, it pissed her off worse than before.

“You know damn well what!” she snapped, feeling her control over her temper fraying. Once again, was he _trying_ to get under her skin? It sure as hell felt like that, and she didn’t like it.

“Ooh, temper, temper.” Emile chimed in, and it seemed as though he were enjoying the altercation.

“Oh shove it, Warrant Officer, or I’ll shove your kukri up your—”

“Enough.” Carter intervened. Evidently, he’d changed his mind on the matter; his tone was businesslike, and brooking no argument. “Save it, both of you.” Even through the golden visor, it felt to her like he was looking at her sternly, until he tore his helmeted gaze away, shaking his head. “Listen up, Noble Team. We’re looking at a downed relay outpost, fifty klicks from Visegrád. We’re going to introduce ourselves to whoever took it out, and then Kat’s going to get it back online.”

“Just get me under the hood, Commander.” The team’s second was quick to answer, and her manner was all-too-casual about potentially hacking into a communications relay.

Jorge’s question as to why rebels would want to cut off Reach from the rest of the colonies left the lone wolf pondering, and wishing she’d paid attention to the earlier conversation between Carter and his superior, Holland. So, the suspected cause of this mission out to Visegrád was insurrectionists. Were they truly the cause behind all of this? Why send out a Spartan team for something so simple? ONI had been right in thinking that NOBLE were a misallocation of valuable resources – this op should have been assigned to a team of ODST specialists, instead. Maybe Holland was uptight, maybe he wanted to show what _else_ his Spartans could do to the rest of the UNSC, maybe he suspected that it wasn’t insurrectionists at all – that it was something far, _far_ worse.

A chill shot through her chest, and she banished that last thought. There was no _way_ that _they_ would be at Reach. They could not have found humanity’s military stronghold, the literal doorstep to Earth.

“You get a chance, maybe you can ask ’em, Jorge.”

Right. Because asking rebels _always_ worked out nicely. B312 suspected that he was being mildly sarcastic in that remark; the rebels would be more likely to shoot first, ask questions later, with the presence of Spartans.

“Commander, we just lost our signal with HQ.” Kat announced after a momentary lapse in conversation.

 _That’s always a good sign, isn’t it_ she thought sardonically.

“Backup channels?”

“Searching…” Kat’s voice was almost washed out by a metallic crackle from her datapad, and so she raised her voice a fraction as she finished with a shrug, “Nada. Can’t say what’s jamming us.”

Proof that their enemy was smart. One step ahead, even. The signs were pointing to the situation becoming worse and worse, and the battle had yet to begin.

“You heard her,” Carter informed the rest of them, as though they weren’t privy to what was going on, despite all communications thus far being on the same channel. “Dead zone confirmed. Command will _not_ be keeping us company this trip.”

“As if they were going to anyway.” Emile retorted scornfully. “I’m lonely already.”

* * *

The Covenant were on Reach. The lone wolf felt like she had precog; how the hell had a random guess been _right_?

She’d wondered why whatever had destroyed the Troopers’ Warthog had had so much firepower; at the time, she’d thought that it was explosives. And the dead soldiers they’d found; the way they’d been interrogated hadn’t seemed like something humans would do, although she _had_ known some rebels to be particularly bloodthirsty. Oh, how wrong they’d all been. Jorge hadn’t _wanted_ it to be the Covenant. None of them had, although the heavy weapons specialist had lamented about it in particular when Emile had suggested plasma had been what had caused the first mess they’d encountered.

She silently hoped that wherever the rest of this Trooper squad was – because there was more unaccounted for – they were in one piece. It was bad enough that some of the soldiers were dead. What was worse was that there were civilian bodies, too – even ones they hadn’t seen, but had been given an account of by a few frightened, native farmers.

And now the aliens were right outside the building.

B312 listened as the rest of the team rushed into the room behind her, yelling out exclamations and curses alike; she drowned them out in favour of raising her M6G, steadying her breathing, and firing off a pair of pinpoint headshots at the Skirmisher atop a nearby roof. _Snap! Snap!_ The birdlike alien crumpled, and the Spartan moved away, steps flowing like water as she wound around a staircase per Carter’s instruction to move down to the lower levels of the building. She paused only for a moment to pilfer a trio of frag grenades left scattered beside the corpse of yet another unfortunate Trooper lying in a pool of his own blood.

She reached the ground floor, and saw a trio of Skirmishers darting out towards her, firing their plasma pistols as they ran. Without second thought, the Spartan pulled the firing pin on one of the ’nades, lobbing it towards the Covies, ducking behind Jorge for cover as he entered armour lock. A beat, followed quickly by a _whump_ as the grenade detonated; the Spartan picked over the alien bodies and made her way outside.

It would not do her justice to describe what she was doing as simply ‘fighting in combat’. Because oh, was it so much more than that. Her body language was that of power, and of fluid grace. Her movements were not simply acting and reacting; she was dancing, pure poetry in motion. Indeed, while her combat prowess had been foretold, notes and files could not compare to seeing her in action. Speed, stealth, cunning; these were all her skills, and more. She was not just a Spartan; she was a hunter, a predator, and each and every Covenant alien was her prey. Brutal power and beautiful lethality were hers to command; they were what set her apart from the others.

Another birdlike alien screeched from close by, and she swung around to face this new threat. As the Skirmisher leapt towards her, the Lieutenant’s hand shot out and caught it by the throat in midair. She wrenched the avian downwards, stunning it on the way with her fist, and then stepped on its head, crushing its skull beneath her armoured boot and killing it instantly.

“What the _hell_?” Emile breathed over TEAMCOM, stunned, breaking the silence. “Man, I thought that _I was_ brutal in how I killed those alien sons of bitches. But that takes the cake… and terrifies me.”

“Stand down, Noble, stand down.” Carter disrupted any further banter with his orders; he was clearly not in the mood for any further light-hearted conversing. “Contacts neutralized.”

“Contacts?!” Jorge sounded aghast. “It’s the damn _Covenant_! How can you act so casual when the greatest enemy man has possibly ever faced is here on our military stronghold. _Earth’s metaphorical doorstep_ , Commander. Need I remind you how many light years away we are from humanity’s home planet? You do the math, same as me. What does it give you?”

“Cheer up, big man.” Emile interjected, before the heavy weapons specialist could continue his agitated ranting. “This whole valley just turned into a free-fire zone. And with that goin’ on, you can be sure that _you’ll_ be the one to send the Covies packin’.”

The Spartan-II cursed under his breath, shaking his head at his younger compatriot before striding past. Something told B312 that his grip on his machine gun would have been white-knuckle tight. She could see where his anger was coming from, and it wasn’t _just_ because Reach was his home. For a moment there, she’d felt the same way, until she’d buried the emotion down deep, and lost herself in the combat, and the freedom it entailed.

Perhaps it was that some of Jorge’s current mood had rubbed off on the Commander, because he sounded tense as he demanded, “Kat, we’ve got to warn Holland. I need you at that relay outpost _now_.”

Even Jun had begun to sound ruffled, and he was almost as calm as Carter was. “Boss, I’m showing more activity to the east! Picking up a small number of heat-sigs on the thermal.”

“Copy that, Jun, we’re on it.” She could feel his stare through that golden visor as though it wasn’t there, his tone cold, but familiar as he spoke once more. “Six, you’ve got point. Time to make ’em regret coming here.”

* * *

It was inevitable that they’d wound up entering a protracted seek and sweep firefight while searching for the survivors of 3 Charlie – if there _were_ any left. It seemed like there were endless hordes of the damned aliens, crawling out of the woodwork of nearly every human building they’d come across, just for a chance to shoot at the soldiers they considered to be ‘Demons’. Because of _course_ the bastards had managed to get themselves dug in without the UNSC knowing. It wasn’t even so much a matter of their technology giving them the ability to sneak around better than humanity – they were just very, very good at dropping in unawares.

And so, of course, it was inevitable that the Spartans would begin to have issues. Indomitable supersoldiers in expensive, technologically advanced suits of armour were still only _human_. They still made mistakes, the same as everyone else. They just did it on a less frequent basis.

Mistakes such as Jorge spraying suppressive fire too low over the top of Carter’s helmet, causing him to duck and miss a Skirmisher, giving the alien free reign to run _at_ the Spade and latch itself onto his armour. It was only quick thinking of B312’s account, and mastery of combat knives, that the birdlike creature was dead, and Carter had come out of it unharmed. Mistakes such as the Lieutenant getting up close and personal too many times with the Covies; two rounds bouncing off her visor when her shields had been drained hadn’t damaged the material, but they _had_ caused her HUD to become buggy, and it was no longer functioning correctly. Which meant that she had to swap seats with Carter, since she was the one driving and he was not, and take her helmet off to work on fixing her HUD.

The Commander was _not_ impressed with that maneuver, and the Spade’s engine died out as he brought the vehicle to a stop. Even with the helmet in the way, she knew he was scowling at her; as it was, it bled into his tone of voice as he scolded her for doing something so foolish. “What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t have your helm off in a combat zone. We might not be engaged in a firefight as of this moment, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing when it comes to what’s safe and what’s not.”

B312 looked at him slowly, one eyebrow arching in a manner all too casual that belied her lax attitude about the situation. “Is there a problem with me doing some on-field repairs? You expect us to be at our best, but how can we when our technology is failing us? My HUD is acting up, and would you rather I had _that_ going on in the middle of heavy fire?”

The other Spartan grunted in distaste, and shook his head. “Fine,” he assented, “But I’m not driving until you’re finished. I can’t risk you because you’re leaving yourself open like that.” The way he settled back in his seat was a finality to his statement; proof that he would not back down on his word.

“Fine,” she answered nonchalantly, “But don’t go blaming me if whoever’s left of 3 Charlie wind up dead because you lingered here waiting for me to finish repairs because you’re _scared_.”

Carter slapped his open palm against the steering wheel of the Spade. “ _Damn it_.” He was silent for a few minutes, before re-opening the COM frequency which Jun was using, questioning whether the rifleman had yet noted any signs of the missing Trooper squad.

“That’s a negative…” Noble Three paused a heartbeat, followed quickly by, “Hold on, picking up a distress signal now, boss. Patching you through.”

There was a wash of static, after which the tired-sounding voice of one of the missing soldiers came through. “Mayday! 3 Charlie Six, does anyone read? We were attacked by Covenant forces. The Covenant is on Reach. I repeat: the Covenant is on Reach.”

A quiet groan of frustration escaped the team’s leader, and he shot the Lieutenant another unseen look that expressed his resentment at what she was doing, before he engaged the truck once more, and it growled as it resumed the journey forward. He’d barely driven a click when the 3 Charlie Trooper squawked over the COM again, and this time, he sounded somewhat panicked. “We’re under attack! I repeat: mayday, mayday. 3 Charlie 6; we’re under attack by the Covenant. I’ve got wounded – _cannot_ hold this position!”

The lone wolf barely had time to brace as Carter gunned the Spade, and this time the engine _roared_ as the vehicle whipped through Visegrád’s landscape. By the time he’d brought the vehicle to a sliding stop outside another kiva crawling with alien scum, as well as the first human life they’d seen since those native farmers, she had her HUD repaired, helmet on, and she was jumping out of the vehicle even before it had fully finished halting.

Her MA37 snapped up, and she fired a short burst into a cluster of Grunts which had been barreling towards the three Troopers. Most of the aliens reacted by scattering; their leader, an Ultra, squealed its anger and turned its sights – and Needler – onto her instead. _Better me than them_ she thought sardonically, and with another burst from the AR, dropped the Ultra like a sack of potatoes – alien potatoes – before it could fire off a shot. The rest were eliminated from a crossfire thanks to Jorge and Carter, and when the Commander came up next to where she’d crouched, reloading his DMR, he told her through gritted teeth, “You’re damned lucky, Lieutenant. But don’t think I’m going to let that slide. Soon as we get back to base, you and I are going to have a _talk_.”

Her only response was to give him a good old two-fingered salute – Jorge saw and gave a low chuckle of amusement, which caused Carter to growl in irritation. Evidently, he still was not done chewing her out about taking her helmet off on the field. Like she _really_ cared what he thought either way – she’d needed to make repairs ASAP, and it had been opportunistic to do it _then_ , before her HUD got worse and she couldn’t see out of her visor at all. She did not really _mean_ to get on his bad side; they just happened to be clashing because both of them were very stubborn, and stubborn-natured people _always_ clashed with one another, teammates or not.

* * *

Even as another Spirit swung in overhead after the team had downed the last lot of Covenant that Emile had been struggling to get rid of, Carter was quick to thunder out his orders. “Hold them off until Kat can hack the controls! No stopping for a breather, no matter how badly you wanna take a nap. This is the last leg, Spartans.”

“Much as I like crackin’ Covie skulls, I can’t _wait_ to get back to base. I’m gettin’ real bored of all this nonstop shooting. Need a change of scene, you know?” Emile stated whole-heartedly, to which Jorge grumbled at his teammate, displeased.

“Quit your complaining and get on with your job. This is what you were trained for.” the heavy weapons specialist chided, and there was something threatening in the way he swung his machine gun around as he shifted to find a better angle to fire from. “Unless you’re _not_ as bloodthirsty as you seem to make out, and your eagerness to kill Alpha Bravos is nothing more than a front?”

“Drop it and focus on your damn jobs.” Carter dictated crossly; he sounded peevish, which was a stark contrast to his usual calm, controlled demeanour. Clearly this rivalry was an old one, and one which the team leader was beyond tired of.

“Yes _Sir_.” Emile answered tightly, and he pumped buckshot into the chest of an Elite Major, which sent it stumbling backwards, and was the perfect opportunity for B312 to finish off by sneaking up behind it and slitting its throat. “Damn, Six, the hell you come from?”

Beneath her helmet, she felt her lips curling in amusement, teeth baring in a wolflike grin that no-one could see. “Oh, you know,” she said breezily, “Close by, watching your back. I’m as good as any SpecOps hinge-head at sneaking around.”

“I’ll take you at your word.” he muttered, and she was sure that beneath his own helm, his face would have been twisted into a mixture of surprise at being caught off-guard, and indignation at his kill being stolen from in front of him. Much like her, he took great pride in his bloodthirsty work, and he was disappointed that he wasn’t able to tango with the split-lip for longer than he had.

_Speaking of split-lips…_

One of the tall, saurian warriors leapt from the side of a Spirit dropship, accompanied by a squad consisting of Jackals and Grunts, and rushed towards the Spartans who stood ready in the courtyard, roaring a battle cry as it drew out a plasma repeater. The alien was quickly cut down thanks to Jorge’s efforts, and its subordinates doubled their rate of fire as they swarmed towards the armoured soldiers. It was as though the Covenant was throwing every alien warrior they could at the Spartans; once this group was cut down, another and then _another_ Spirit came and deposited more of the ugly creatures. All were intent on wiping the Spartans out. All of them failed miserably. Eventually, though, they had the upper hand in numbers, and it was like the very air itself was teeming with the damned things.

“Kat?” Carter questioned tersely, backing up into B312 as he darted into cover without knowing she was there, and knocking her arm which threw off her aim – the shot went wild, but a knife flung into the Jackal’s throat ended its premature squawk of triumph. She cursed at him quietly, and he performed a hand gesture that indicated apology. She would have to let that do, she supposed, as the Jackal hadn’t even been too close for comfort, but if it ever happened again, safe to say she wouldn’t be happy.

The cryptanalyst’s reply came not a moment too soon. “Just about… _there_. We’re in.” And barely before the words had finished falling from her mouth, the Commander was ordering them all to, “Get your asses in that outpost, NOBLE, on the double.”

Emile, Jorge, and Six rushed into the outpost like water bursting from a dam, and only once the door slammed shut behind them, could they all feel secure. The assault specialist was the sole Spartan of the team who was relaxed; he leaned against a wall in a laidback manner, shotgun hanging loosely from his fingers. The rest of them gathered closer to the Commander, waiting to see what their next course of action would be.

Unintentionally or deliberately, Kat shifted subtly closer to the lone wolf, bumping against her shoulder. When the Lieutenant turned to look, a silent question posed upon her lips, she found that the team’s executive officer was no longer there, and stood closer to Carter. That was unusual behaviour – at least, to her. Among Spartans it was a gesture of camaraderie, of _I’m here, sibling_ , something familiar and somewhat comforting. However, to the lone wolf it was alien, being so unused to fighting alongside her own kind once again. She didn’t know what to make of it, and decided that she was best to question the other on the matter at a later date, if the opportunity arose. For the time being she chose to focus on the mission, listening intently to Carter as he gave word on what they were going to do.

“We need to find the control room. From there, Kat can get the relay back online. Emile, post here. If we flush any hostiles, they’re yours. Alright, let’s do this.”

* * *

“Noble Six, search that body.” Kat ordered as she stepped past the corpse of yet another civilian slaughtered by the Covenant, lying in a pool of his own blood.

B312 didn’t bother arguing; she just got to work patting the back of the man’s jacket, seeing if he had anything of value on him. She paused for a moment as she caught sight of Carter crouching beside a wounded Corporal in her peripheral vision, and she swung her gaze towards him, distracted for the time being. It was almost _jarring_ to look at the blatant juxtaposition between foot soldier and Spartan, and it was not just because despite both being clad head-to-toe in armour, the Commander was _clearly_ far bigger. There was a nameless disparity that marked the legendary supersoldiers and regular soldiers; something that went far deeper than augmentations or training.

“Where’s the rest of your unit?” he questioned, and the lone wolf didn’t think she’d ever heard him speak so _gently_. That, too, was jarring.

“We got split.” the Trooper answered, and his voice was strained; he sounded out of breath. “I don’t think they… It sounded bad on the comms. Real bad. I heard them screaming. Nothing I could’ve done, but I wish I’d been able to.”

Another thing she had not expected from Carter, was for him to reach out and place a hand on the Corporal’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll make sure the Covenant pay for what they’ve done here, don’t you worry,” he said reassuringly, “In the meantime, you just stay put. We’ll get you a combat surgeon.”

Some unnamed feeling curled in her gut, and she focused on what she’d been told to do instead. When she turned the body over to search his front, it didn’t take long for her to discern that he’d been killed by an energy sword through the abdomen. She could not help but feel almost _sorry_ for this civilian that she’d never even known. It would have been a painful way to go, no doubt about it. Something clattered to the floor, breaking into her thought train, and she picked the object up, examining it carefully. A data module, of some kind. _Best give it to Kat_ she decided, before garnering the Lieutenant Commander’s attention. “Found something.”

The cryptanalyst turned to her in a manner that was almost impatient, head canted to one side as she took stock of what it was that B312 was holding. Then, without so much as a _thanks_ , she _snatched_ the data module away, tucking it into a pouch of her armour. “I’ll take that, Six. Not your domain.” she dismissed coolly, and for the first time did the lone wolf have the sensation of resentment towards her bubbling up in her chest.

“I’ve got a live one over here!” Jorge called, pulling a young woman from out of her hiding spot beneath a staircase. “Come on, out you come.” Despite his sheer stature, his movements were slow and deliberate, and he kept his voice as pleasant as possible, to make sure he didn’t scare the civilian. It was clear to any outsider that the heavy weapons specialist was the most human of them all.

Regardless of how he treated her, the woman struggled against his grip, repeatedly smashing her fist against his armour to no avail. She babbled frantically in another language, her voice high and panicked. Whatever had taken place inside the relay had traumatized her. She was _not_ keen on being manhandled by what _appeared_ to her to be the same sort of creatures that had killed the other humans – tall, powerful, clad in impervious armour plating – although anyone who knew better would realize that Spartans and Elites were _not_ the same thing.

The lone wolf hadn’t realized that Carter had walked up to stand beside Kat, until he was speaking, wondering if the big Spartan had a handle on the woman with just one word alone. “Jorge…”

She skittered a step sideways and flexed her fingers on her assault rifle as something to distract her. Even without looking at her vitals on her HUD, she knew that her heart was racing. She could feel it thumping in her chest. How the hell had he been so _quiet_? She must have really been unfocused, which wasn’t a good thing – she needed to get her head back into the game.

“I got her.” Jorge assured them, setting his machine gun down to get a better grip on the civilian with both hands instead of just the one. He swung her around in front of him, giving her shoulders a gentle shake, and she stopped struggling, going limp like a cat that had given up the fight. “Keep still, and I’ll release you.” he told her firmly.

A moment’s silence, before she quietly admitted in that same language, “Még... Itt vannak.” No-one showed any indication whatsoever of knowing what she’d said save for Jorge, who stiffened in alarm.

_Sounds like Hungarian. Jorge's native tongue._

She’d barely begun to wonder _why_ Jorge had gone so still when a purple-armoured Elite jumped down behind the big man, swinging its energy sword in a wide arc. The Spartan reacted faster and dodged the weapon, pulling the civilian to the ground and covering her beneath his armoured form. Frustrated, the hinge-head snarled as it turned its sights on the rest of the team, and two more Elites of the same armour variation and colouring jumped down behind it as it charged forwards, though it was easy enough to tell that it was the leader due to the prongs on its helmet.

Emile’s voice crackled over TEAMCOM, and he sounded mildly alarmed as he questioned what was occurring without him. “What’s your status, over?!”

“We’ve been engaged!” Carter all but bellowed at his subordinate; although it was not necessary to yell, the words came out louder than intended due to the adrenaline flowing through his veins. He stood and braced, and, along with the lone wolf, fired his MA37 to try and halt the split-lip’s advance. However, it was of no use, as the saurian’s shields absorbed the fire, and it continued on its path, impervious to the hail of bullets that rained upon it. It swung its energy sword in an arc once more, aiming to attack Kat since she stood there _frozen_ , but as with Jorge, the Commander reacted faster and shoved her into a wall out of the way, the sword hissing as it slashed the nearby computer monitors instead.

 _Why won’t you just_ die _?_ B312 thought angrily, gritting her teeth and keeping up the hail of fire as the alien set its sights on her. Finally, its shields collapsed and died, just as she was almost out of ammunition for her current magazine. Unable to bring its sword to bear, and desperate to knock _one_ of the Spartans out of the fight, it barreled into the Lieutenant and knocked her to the ground before darting off down the hallway the team had just come down. The impact jarred her out of her senses and knocked her assault rifle out of her hands with a clatter, and for a few agonizing minutes, her vision was filled with static as her brain struggled to reboot. She tasted copper in her mouth, and realized she’d bitten her lip upon her helmet connecting with the concrete.

“Bad guy comin’ out!” Carter shouted, and it took her a moment to realize that he wasn’t talking to anyone in the room, but warning Noble Four of the purple-armoured bastard that was in the process of rushing his way.

The lone wolf didn’t even have time to push herself to her feet and jump back into the fray. Before she even so much as _moved_ , there was another alien coming at her, and this one grabbed at her neck, extending a wrist-mounted energy dagger. She bared her teeth at the ugly creature even though it could not see and was quick to block the rapid strike, prior to smashing her fist into its mandibles, snapping its head sideways and stunning it. That _also_ served to piss it off, because the moment it recovered, it roared in her face, mandibles flaring outwards, and made another attempt at stabbing her. Before it could get the weapon even _close_ to her armour, Carter closed in behind it and kicked it in the abdomen, giving it cause to snarl at them as it scrambled backwards, and out of the line of fire as Kat finally seemed to respond and opened up with her Magnum.

The team leader turned and kicked Six’s discarded MA37 across the floor to her, before offering his hand and easing her to her feet. Just for a single heartbeat, they locked eyes, even beneath their visors, and she offered the Commander the tiniest nod of thanks. He responded by swiping two fingers against the bottom of his faceplate, about where his mouth would be, before swinging towards the doorway, where the two aliens stood, one of them holding the screaming, wounded Corporal as a shield. The hinge-head dragged the soldier through the doorway after its companion, prying his fingers off the doorframe when he tried to hold on for dear life. Even as they all disappeared out of sight, the poor man’s screams could still be heard.

 _You sick alien freaks_.

Behind them, the civilian girl began to panic, and her cries of fear became mixed into the general chaos of the shitty, sideways situation.

Emile once again made an inquiry over the comms, and he sounded eager to join the fight that he’d missed out on by staying in the entrance room. “That tango blew past me! Permission to pursue?”

“Negative, Four, stay on the entrance!” Carter answered firmly as he shifted into a combat stance, fingers readying his assault rifle. “Two, handle the civilian! Five and Six, clear the hole!”

As one unit, Jorge and Six hastened forwards through the doorway, the lone wolf choosing that moment to reload while she moved. Noble Five slammed the door shut behind them with a heavy thud, and the hunt began.

* * *

B312 sauntered back into the control room of the relay outpost, trying not to limp despite the gash in her thigh, thanks to one of the hinge-heads that had gotten in a lucky blow with its energy sword. It hurt like hell, and while the wound had cauterized, it could still cause problems to her – she would need to see a medic later on. She leaned against a wall beside Jun, the rifleman having finally joined them while she and Jorge were working on clearing out the Covies, and tuned into the conversation between commander and executive officer, noting with some amusement how Carter was all but _hovering_ behind Kat as he asked her, “How long?”

“Question of my life. If the question is _when will this station be back online_ , two weeks, earliest.” she muttered, barely turning her head to even look at him. “This is plasma damage. All major uplink components are fried. It was already in need of repair when we got here, but that Elite made it worse.”

Carter leaned in to take a closer look, and there was frustration edging his voice as he stated, “Two _minutes_ is too long.”

“Which is why I’m splicing into the main overland bundle to get you a direct line to Colonel Holland.” The way Kat spoke seemed to suggest that she was annoyed at her rundown having been interrupted. “You’re in my _light_ , Commander.”

The lone wolf shook her head and decided to tune out of whatever conversation next ensued. It wasn’t concerning her, and if there was anything she needed to know, she would pick it up soon enough. Her head was still spinning from connecting with the ground – a second time hadn’t helped, and that was when the squid-head had managed to wound her. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and _sleep_. It was not the fighting that had worn her down, so much as being on the battlefield while trying to adjust to being part of a team, that was getting to her. There were so many different personalities – she and Carter clashed in particular. He was so damned _stubborn_ , and no-nonsense to boot. Explained why he didn’t appreciate it when she back-talked. Although she _had_ been right, he hadn’t taken her attitude lightly.

 _You’re damned lucky, Lieutenant. But don’t think I’m going to let that slide. Soon as we get back to base, you and I are going to have a talk_. His voice echoed in her skull, and she hissed out a curse between clenched teeth. Was that how it was going to be, then? The two of them butting heads and getting on one another’s nerves? It wasn’t like she was _trying_ to be civil. There was just _something_ about him that got under her skin and irritated her, like a pesky mosquito that was determined to suck the life right out of her.

She only re-focused on her surroundings when Jun tapped her on the shoulder and began to stride out of the control room. Emile peeled himself off the wall where he’d been resting his back, and Jorge wandered past with the civilian in tow. She blinked a few times and lingered a second more, watching as Carter took off his helmet and turned to the monitors, his attention evident on whatever uplink Kat had managed to secure. She would have stayed to listen, but the Lieutenant Commander jerked her head down the hall, and she decided that perhaps she would follow after all.

Regardless, she managed to catch the tail end of the conversation: Carter’s firm yet tired voice declaring WINTER CONTINGENCY, and Colonel Holland’s awed murmur of, “May we all live long enough to prevent them from finding our homeworld.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation for the Hungarian  
> Még... Itt vannak = _There's more_


	4. Turmoil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hooray, chapter four is here! And this is where Things really start to Happen ;)  
> Admittedly it's somewhat shorter in length, but this is only a filler chapter, and therefore isn't as necessary to write as much as with the action chapters. That said, it's still _very_ important narrative-wise, as most filler chapters are!

“Lieutenant.”

B312 glanced up from cleaning her MA37, meeting Carter’s gaze. She saw that like her, he was out of armour and only wearing the bodysuit that sat underneath all that plating. Even with it removed, to her, he _still_ looked intimidating. Perhaps it was just his neutral expression that did it. Sure, he was easy on the eyes – not that she was _interested_ , but at least he didn’t look… well, _dark_. Some people just had that natural aura of ugliness about them, that had nothing to do with whether or not they were pretty… it was more to do with the fact that they had an ugly heart, and it showed on their countenance. Carter, thankfully, was free of that, and it made it much easier to look him in the eyes, much easier to trust him.

If she were to ever _let_ herself trust him.

“Commander.”

She noted how his eyes flickered down, and sideways, and she realized that he was looking at her wounded leg when his statement changed to a question halfway through. “We need to… What happened there?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “One of the squid-heads got too close for comfort,” she answered, using one of many terms that UNSC foot soldiers had come up with for the saurian aliens over the years. “Struck me with its energy sword as I was down. Of course, I snapped its neck in retaliation.”

He was unperturbed by the admission of what she’d done to the Elite; they were all _well_ used to having such things occur right in front of their eyes, not always being initiated by their own hands. Instead, one dark eyebrow arched, and he mused, “I see.”

Silence lapsed, with the two officers continuing to stare mutely at one another. The lone wolf wondered which of them would budge first. Which of them was less stubborn, and would break the silence first, or give up and walk away. Six set her jaw and dipped her chin, wondering just how far the Commander’s stubbornness went. Was he as bull-headed as she was, or did it simply spiral into stupidity, like what seemed to be the case with Emile?

Eventually Carter gave in, his gaze sliding sideways, followed by a clearing of his throat. “I can tend to that, if you want,” he offered, gesturing to her thigh. “Noble considers me the unofficial team medic, aside from being their leader. And a marksman.”

“You, team’s medic? Never would have took you for such a thing.” she remarked, a note of amusement colouring her voice.

It sounded like he began to chuckle, but was smothering it with a cough – at least, she _thought_ that was the noise he made. Either that or it was some kind of strangled squawk. She couldn’t tell either way. In response, she smothered a snort into the back of her hand, acting as though she’d sneezed to hide the noise.

“Sure… I don’t mind.” She shrugged again, both shoulders this time, and seated herself in one of the chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. Her eyes tracked him as he knelt beside her to examine the gash, fingers gently probing, before his gaze met hers a second time to give his verdict.

“I’d hate to cut away from the wound because your bodysuit can be patched up, so I’m gonna have to get you to strip it down to about your knees.”

The lone wolf stared at him and said nothing; silently, she began to peel herself out of her bodysuit, methodical until she became stuck. That was one of the downsides to having those techs gear her up and dress her down before and after each mission – she was not careful enough with her motions, and the moment her elbow became snared in the material, she struggled. Panic rose up in her chest, and she realized that she had to stop and ask for help, as much as it galled her to. She simply had no way of knowing how to get herself free, and her flight or fight instincts were beginning to kick in.

A long, growling sigh escaped her instead.

Why was it now, when she needed actual help, that her words failed her? Perhaps it was simply because she felt stupid for asking. The entire situation made her look like a helpless idiot, and she hated the very idea of it. She loathed that it was happening to her.

Before she could even _attempt_ to get the words free of her throat and ask for some assistance, Carter had shifted closer, so close that he was in her personal space, and gently eased her elbow and the rest of her arm free of her bodysuit. Then, without bothering to ask if she wanted _further_ help, he worked on sliding the material further down her body, silent as he worked, and deliberately avoiding looking into her eyes. B312 had to pull her head _back_ to keep from bumping him – that, and she felt somewhat… nervous… about having someone she barely knew crowding her. She’d never particularly been at ease when someone was too close for comfort, and this situation was no exception.

And yet…

His proximity made her skin prickle in a way that was unfamiliar to her, and she began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She could feel her heart banging against her ribcage – _thump, thump, thump_ – and she found that she was almost holding her breath even as she continued to look away from him. When he shifted away and rose up, her gaze could not help but track his movements, and she was struck, suddenly, by the intensity of his eyes; not his stare, this time, but the colour. They were so bright; such a deep, vibrant _blue_ , and she sucked in a nervous breath, releasing it with a quiet _whoosh_. As quickly as those thoughts had made themselves present, she banished them with a shake of her head and a firm, mental _no_. What was she even _doing_ – she needed to refocus on the situation at hand. It was absolutely ridiculous to be so preoccupied with such foolish, insignificant details, like the defined curve of his jawline, or the sharpness to his cheekbones, or the slope of his nose…

“Lieutenant?”

She was aware, very aware, that the Commander was staring at her, a frown marring his features – _marring? since when?_ – and she shook her head again, lowering her chin. “Sir.”

“You zoned out back there. Everything okay?”

Another quiet whoosh of air escaped her. “Fine. I was just… thinking.”

_Yeah, no shit_.

“Careful. You might get lost in there.” he ribbed, a corner of his mouth twitching, threatening to turn into a smirk. And was it her overactive imagination, or was there a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before?

It took her a moment to recover, and by that time, he’d already begun to walk away to fetch the medkit. “Funny,” she sassed to his retreating back, and she was rewarded with an amused snort.

* * *

By the time Carter returned, Six had finished cleaning her assault rifle, and had pieced it back together. She was just setting it aside when he called her attention, and she glanced up, tilting her head inquiringly at the bottle of vodka he held in one hand. “What’s that for?”

“Disinfectant.”

She frowned at him, snatched the bottle before he could even set it down, popped the top, and chugged half the bottle down in one swift movement. She cleared her throat at the burn rather than coughing, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and shrugged nonchalantly at the bewildered expression on his face. “What?”

“That’s not…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Nevermind.”

She shrugged again and handed the bottle back to him. “Numbs the pain,” she said casually, “Also I needed a drink, so, two birds with one stone.” Her eyes closed and she settled back against the chair, ignoring the burn on the _outside_ of her body as the other Spartan dabbed at her wound with a pad he’d doused in the alcohol.

She wasn’t bothered by the fact that she’d received yet another injury. The only irritating thing about the entire situation was that it happened on her first day as part of this new team. It made her feel like an idiot – like she was not as good as her file said she was. Sure, everyone made mistakes. But she was not human, like the rest of them. She was a weapon – weapons didn’t misfire unless the wielder was incompetent or there was a mechanical issue. In this case, the wielder was _very_ competent indeed; COLD MOON had known damn well what they were doing when they allowed her to be rostered onto NOBLE. And there was no way that there was a mechanical issue… was there? Was working as a team compromising her?

The very thought made her uncomfortable, so she dismissed it before it could spread its venom any further. There was no point getting caught up in _that_ web.

The sigh that escaped her was short and huffy, and it was enough to give Carter pause, staring up at her with a puzzled frown on his features. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just frustrated with myself. I’m sure you’ve been there a dozen and five times.” Well, it wasn’t her intent to make conversation. But she couldn’t stop talking. She wasn’t particularly _chatty_ , by any means, but then, her superior _had_ told her to make sure she fitted in with the team. And what better way to slot herself in as one of them by making herself appear less hostile, more approachable, more likeable?

He grunted noncommittally, and bent his head down to resume cleaning her wound, removing the charred, dead skin with a practice and gentleness that suggested he hadn’t been joking at all when he had stated he was the team’s medic. That was another aspect of him that surprised her. She’d expected him to be concerned about the welfare of his team, yes, but not to go to such lengths so as to treat their injuries himself. If anything, she thought that that would have been the job of someone like _Jorge_.

Finally, he _did_ speak to her, when he’d gotten to the stage of stitching up her wound, but it wasn’t related to the topic she’d brought up; it was another matter entirely. “You know…” he began, and it seemed more like he was talking to her leg than to her, but she knew that it was only because he was so focused on his work. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re deliberately butting heads with me because you don’t like being told what to do.”

“What, you didn’t read my psych eval?” she muttered, half-joking and half-serious. Her eyes stared at the back of his head, and when they noticed a crescent moon-shaped scar, for just a beat she idly wondered how he’d gotten injured _there_.

“Of course it didn’t mention trouble with authority figures.” he stated, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. “Well?”

“Listed as rebellious,” she answered with a derisive snort, “And you would know that strong-willed is in there as well, which is one of _your_ primary personality traits, I’ve come to notice. Have you not met someone as stubborn as you are, before? Pig-headed people are _bound_ to clash. That’s the way it is.”

He raised his head to look at her, and there was a spark of defiance in his eyes. “Kat’s stubborn.” She noted, too, the way he set his jaw, and the furrow between his eyebrows; he was beginning to lose patience, it seemed.

“Kat’s not me-level stubborn.” The ghost of a smirk flickered across her lips, fading as quickly as it had appeared. “She’ll back down eventually. One of the things I remember well from training.”

“Except for when she doesn’t.” he countered, voice even.

She hadn’t _meant_ to push his buttons, but she just couldn’t help herself. “So now you’re bad-mouthing your own XO, huh? And I thought you two were close.”

Six felt a smug satisfaction surge through her when his eyes flashed; this verbal sparring was actually  quite _amusing_. Her intent wasn’t to test his patience, to watch him crack and get pissed off at her. She didn’t _want_ to get on his bad side. She just wanted to get to know him.

Carter’s frown deepened, and one hand curled into a fist. “What are you getting at, here?” he questioned through gritted teeth. “Are you deliberately pushing my buttons? Is your problem with authority that bad, that you have to question nearly everything I say, or counter it with backtalk? Because it’s going to get really old, really fast, if that’s the case.”

“Relax,” she drawled, aiming to soothe his metaphorical hackles. “This is just me getting to know you. Is it so bad that I’m making little digs? Because I could just as easily give you the cold shoulder, or worse, openly hate you. I mean, I’m _trying_ to be nice here, but you’re not making it easy. There’s no need to get testy. I’m here to do my job, and get back to ONI when it’s done. And if that means I need to fit into your team, then so be it. Fitting into your team means getting to know each and every one of you.”

Carter was silent as he mulled her words over. Then, after what seemed an eternity, he sighed wearily and shook his head at her. “I’ll never understand you, Lieutenant. One minute you act as though you don’t want to be here, and the next, you act as though we’re all old friends.”

B312’s lips curled, and she bared her teeth in a wolfish grin that didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m simply testing the waters, Commander. Gauging each and every Spartan’s personalities. And yes, I’ve read the psych evals, but a lot of people are biased when they write those. It’s always good to make doubly sure you know who’s watching your six and who isn’t.” Her expression dropped, and her eyes hardened. “Trust isn’t always easy to come by.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice quiet and soft, “No it isn’t.” Their gazes locked for a few heartbeats, before the Commander looked away again, refocusing on the task of patching up her leg.

_Am I crazy for thinking I felt a flash like static electricity just then?_

_…Yeah, buddy, you’re insane._

The lone wolf hadn’t realized that she’d spaced out again when a warm, soft-yet-calloused hand was laid on her knee, and it was all she could do not to jump in surprise as she looked up to meet Carter’s gaze once more. A corner of his mouth was threatening to curl upwards again, and yes, this time there _was_ a spark in his eyes, one of cool amusement. “You’re good to go.” he informed her, rising to his feet and packing up the medkit. “Just take it easy and it won’t reopen.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Like you need to tell me.”

“I _do_ need to tell Emile. And you remind me of him, with your…” He paused for a moment, searching for the right word, or words. “Fiery attitude. That’s not to say you’re not different, because you are. He’s more hotheaded than you, but you hold more anger than he does.”

Had it been that obvious? “Really?” She cocked her head to one side.

“It’s in your eyes.” His voice softened again, and for some reason, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “There’s tragedy in them, and rage. So much rage…” He shook his head as though he were clearing out of a daze, blinked, and turned away. “Anyway, as I said. Take it easy until it’s healed up some.”

“Sure thing, boss.” She waved his concern off with a mock salute, and the smile that had been threatening tugged at the corner of his mouth in response. Her heart thudded strangely in her chest, and she reached past him, grabbed the bottle of vodka, and downed the rest of it in one gulp. She needed to clear her head, she told herself silently, and so what if the Commander judged her? He was the one who’d had the bottle in the first place. And it wasn’t like he kept it purposefully around to use as disinfectant for wounds – they had proper stuff for that. Whether it had been _his_ or not didn’t matter; it was there for drinking, and that’s what she’d done.

“I take it you feel it was a long day.” Amusement lined his voice.

“You could say that,” she mumbled, getting up to leave and pulling her bodysuit back up into place with the movement, “Be seeing you.”

* * *

They expected her to give a report of her status whenever possible. Right. Like they actually thought that was possible while she was deployed on the field of battle. Sure, it wasn’t like she hadn’t managed it before, but back then, she’d been deployed a solo operative. Being part of a team meant that chances for privacy were few and far between. And she preferred that the others _weren’t_ aware of what she was doing – she didn’t want them to know that COLD MOON were building profiles on them. It was the only way she could protect them from the fate that she alone suffered.

They were looking for ways to push forward their work, and they were considering _all_ the options. She knew damn well why they were looking into whatever she reported of her teammates. It was why she had to be _careful_ , too, in what she wrote. She could not doom them to a similar fate to her own.

And so it was that B312 decided that the armoury was the best place to tuck herself away for ten, perhaps fifteen minutes, while she mulled over what to write in her report, and then to write it and send it to her superior. She did not think that anyone else would be there at this time of night. She knew that Emile and Carter were assigned to nightwatch, and as for the others, they would more than likely be sleeping to make sure they were well-rested for their turn on patrol. The armoury felt more secluded than the planning room, and the rec room-slash-kitchen would be where anyone would head to grab a snack if they found themselves hungry.

She had her head bent over her datapad as she walked, fingers pecking at the screen as she searched the file directory for where she’d saved copies of each Spartan’s psych eval. She made no note of her surroundings; so absorbed was she in what she was doing that she didn’t notice Carter walking _out_ of the armoury until she’d smacked straight into his remarkably firm chest – _the hell did_ that _observation come from?_ – and he’d reached out to steady her, one hand closing around her elbow, and the other one holding her datapad so that she didn’t lose her grip on it.

“Easy there, Six.” he told her quietly, mirth in his voice. “Got lost in your thoughts again, I see.” For some reason, the fact that he hadn’t let go of her yet had uneasiness churning in her gut. What was he doing? Why was he looking at her like that?

“Something like that,” she answered, and there was a rasp to her own tone that hadn’t been there earlier. Was something wrong with her? No, that couldn’t be right. It was simply an unfortunate side effect of all that vodka she’d chugged; it had burned her throat and her voice was affected as a result.

He still hadn’t let go.

She wanted to ask _what the hell are you doing?_ but the words died in her throat before they even had the chance to form.

B312 stared at Carter; he stared back.

It was like she was frozen. She couldn’t move, no matter how much she willed herself to do so. She couldn’t speak, no matter how many thoughts raced around in her head, questions right on the tip of her tongue. What was he doing to her? Was it just that he had caught her so off-guard she’d done the first thing her instincts could tell her to do? She didn’t know; it was too hard to tell.

And then he leaned in closer and kissed her.

His mouth on hers was soft and almost tender, and one hand finally let go of her to grasp at her waist and bring her closer still. She went with the motion, almost like in a dream, almost like she was not herself; that someone else was pulling her strings and that she was simply watching events unfolding through her own eyes. And then something in her warned her that this was a mistake.

She snapped, eyes flying wide open, rage and bewilderment boiling in her chest. She raised her hands, shoved them into his chest, shoved him away from her, stumbled back herself. She stared at him again, eyes narrowing this time, breathing hard, a low growl of warning escaping her. Adrenaline flowed through her veins; her flight or fight instinct had kicked in, and she was ready to kick his ass.

His hands were up defensively, and he rested his weight on his back foot, ready to ward her off should she choose to attack him. He looked confused, like he hadn’t been in control of his own actions, like he, too, had been part of a dream; that someone else was pulling _his_ strings.

She hated that parallel.

“How _dare_ you.” she began, voice low, and she hadn’t realized that she’d retrieved a combat knife until she was crowding him, the blade resting against his throat. “Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again,” she snarled, cold, ice cold, “Keep away from me, you _bastard_.”

The other Spartan didn’t seem bothered by the knife, like he’d been threatened physically before, like it was no big deal. That would be his mistake should he move towards her; he did no such thing, thankfully, and stayed perfectly still. “I don’t know what came over me.” he informed her, voice quiet, so quiet, and was there a flash of hurt in his eyes? “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

“You’d damn well better be.” she stated hotly, and spun on her heel, readying to move down the hall, back the way she’d come, but his voice ringing out stopped her before she could even more.

“You’re on patrol with Kat. I was just on my way to tell you that before you— Nevermind. Go get yourself geared up.”

The lone wolf felt like an ice queen as she shoved him again, harder than before, hard enough for his back to slam into the wall with a _thump_ that sounded oddly satisfying to her ears. “ _Bite me_.” she flung at him over one shoulder, stalking towards the armoury that awaited her at the end of the hall.


	5. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally. So, after about half a damn century, I've gotten around to writing this fic again! I would've written sooner, I swear, but I suffered a major case of writer's block, followed by a mental health rollercoaster, followed by being sucked into roleplaying and _Halo 5: Guardians_ , and.... Ah, well, you get the idea!  
> Yet another filler chapter, but just as important as the last one! Good things happen in this one, that I will guarantee, but as to the overall nature of the work, I'm not gonna say a damn thing ;)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, song lyrics taken from _Believer_ by Imagine Dragons, a song that I strongly believe (haha, pun entirely unintended) to be completely fitting for Artemis. Go have a listen, if you like!

July 25, 01:03 Hours

 

“I think I actually hate him.”

B312 broke the silence with a cold, hard statement. Well, it wasn’t _really_ quiet – the rain plinked against her armour, just as it had been doing since arriving in Visegrád all those hours ago. It hadn’t even stopped. The silence was more between the two Spartans who had posted themselves in the landscape surrounding the base, keeping an eye out for any Covenant who might’ve gotten the bright idea to attack a building full to the brim with armoured supersoldiers. Either way, it was enough to spark a conversation between the pair, one which the Lieutenant hadn’t _entirely_ intended on starting.

Her companion’s cool voice came over TEAMCOM, achingly familiar and yet so strange to her all at once. “Who are you talking about? My guess would be Emile, but the way Jorge mentioned you were getting short with the Commander gives me an idea that it could be him, instead.”

Something about that answer had irritation welling up in her gut towards the other woman once more. “I wasn’t _getting short_ with him.” she said, suddenly defensive.

“No?” Kat actually sounded somewhat mirthful. “How about getting surly with him, instead?”

“It’s not _funny_ when he keeps getting on my nerves!” Six all but snarled, the grip on her SRS99 momentarily tightening before she thought to take a deep breath and calm herself down. It wouldn’t do any good to have _everyone_ against her just because she had a bad temper. She did not want to be an outcast on the team. She _wanted_ to fit in – she _had to_ fit in. For the mission. “Sorry. I just… It’s been a long day.”

There was a beat of quiet.

And then, “I get that. You don’t know where you belong among us. You see a team with established dynamics, and you don’t know where you’d put yourself. You don’t even know if you’re a part of the team or not. It can’t be easy.”

“You have no idea.” B312 mumbled, weary from her sudden outburst. “I’m not used to this much fighting in one day, either. Well, this much fighting against the Covies, at any rate. I’m much more accustomed to fighting my way through human targets like… like a…”

“Like a knife through butter?” Kat finished for her, and there was a sense of disquiet, though she did not disagree. “You’re a fish out of water.”

She exhaled a breath that might have been laughter, had she even remembered how to make such a sound. “Something like that,” she agreed, “And you’re right. It’s not easy. The Commander is really getting under my skin and it’s frustrating.” It was so much more than her own issues with authority, she knew that now. And maybe it ran even deeper than both of them being two very stubborn individuals. There was something _else_ about him, something nameless, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that just pissed her off. She didn’t like it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” she answered curtly, retreating back into her emotional shell. She loathed feeling emotions at all; it was worse when they were stronger. Except for anger; anger drove her, fuelled her, was what kept her going despite everything. But this wasn’t anger, and she needed to shut it off before it got out of control. “I barely even _know_ you. We might have trained together and we might have been close, but I barely remember any of that. And I have no doubts that you’ve changed over the years. Who you once were would not be the same as who you are now.”

“ _Artemis_.” the Lieutenant Commander pleaded, out of the blue, and uneasiness churned in her gut – but was replaced by anger at use of her name.

“ _Don’t_ call me that.” she snarled, suddenly vicious, suddenly tensed and coiled to strike even though there was nothing near her save the branches and leaves of the tree she currently crouched in. “That name is not mine any longer. I may have been born with it but the moment I joined the Spartan Program was the moment I became Bravo-Three-One-Two.”

“Please don’t shut me out.”

 Why was it that Kat’s voice had become thick with emotion, choked with tears? Had she not changed as much as Six thought she had?

Those questions were answered when the cryptanalyst ploughed on. “You were my _sister_. You a _re_ my sister. Nothing could ever change that. Don’t you remember that we promised one another that no matter what, we would _never_ abandon each other? Why can’t you just _talk_ to me?”

More silence hung between them after that outburst.

Six did not know what to say. What _could_ she say? What _should_ she say? She did not know whether to apologize or to shut her out for good. Her fingers again flexed on the grip of her sniper rifle, and she stared up into the starlit sky above Reach.

Unbidden, a memory rose to the surface of her mind. Tattered, faded, but still there, and still one that she could recall easily enough.

_“I don’t remember Lieutenant Commander Ambrose assigning you elsewhere.”_

_The younger cadet paused to look up at her older friend, shrugged a shoulder, and resumed packing. “He did not. ONI… COLD MOON… did.” Just as they had always wanted. She’d always known that she would be going to their care; why else had they taken such pains to give her extra training on the side?_

_“So you’re leaving, then.” There was a note of finality in 320’s voice, but also one of sadness. “We’ll never see one another again.”_

_This time 312 stopped altogether, stepping over to where her friend stood, curling a hand around her shoulder. “I tried to see if Ambrose could overrule them, have_ him _assign me somewhere instead, somewhere with you. They refused. Nothing else could have been done. And hey, don’t think we’ll never see one another again. We’re sisters, remember? Just like we promised. Things might change between us, but no matter what happens, we’re never gonna abandon one another if we find each other again. And we_ will _find each other again. I just know it. ’Kay? So don’t cry, KitKat.”_

_Kat moved a pace forwards and hugged her fellow Spartan tightly. “Do you promise me?” This time, her voice wavered._

_“Yeah. ’Course I promise. And I don’t break my promises.”_

The lone wolf blinked herself back to the present, and realized that Kat was still waiting for a response. “We _will_ find each other again,” she said, barely audible to her own ears, but she knew that the other Spartan would have heard it, loud and clear. For reasons unknown, there was a deep ache in her chest, like a knife had been stabbed into her heart, and that knife twisted when the cryptanalyst gave voice to the fact that she, too, was able to recall the conversation that Six was referencing.

“You were right. We did find one another again. But I feel like I don’t know you anymore. You’re so _different_ , and it’s not just because we were apart for so many years.”

“I don’t know who I can and can’t trust. I’ve met too many people with ulterior motives, and not trusting anyone in general became my default, to protect myself. A defense mechanism that’s hard to let go of even when among fellow Spartans.” Six admitted quietly, and the guilt crept into her voice. “I want to talk to you but I just…” A short, weary sigh. “Not only that, but… I don’t want to cause any _problems_. This topic is… I don’t want to say _sensitive_ , but what the Commander did to upset me…”

What Kat asked next was a surprise, and yet it invoked an old, familiar feeling all the same. “Wait – he _upset you_? What the hell did he _do_? I swear, if he made you think you didn’t belong among us, I’m going to kick his sorry ass from here all the way back to Onyx.”

Just as it had done earlier that night, B312’s heart began thudding against her ribcage. How was she going to explain this one to the other Spartan? Sure, they might have been sisters, but there was also the matter of the fact that Kat and Carter were awfully close. Often she found herself wondering what kind of relationship they had, because it was clear enough to her that it ran deeper than the average working relationship between a commander and their executive officer. Were they close like brother and sister, or were they close in the romantic sense? _That_ was what she couldn’t tell, and some part of her didn’t _want_ to know.

“I… We… He…” A curse tumbled from her lips, in a language that was almost entirely forgotten to her, despite it being her second language growing up, despite it being the second-most common language spoken on this very planet. She closed her eyes tight, opened them again, checked the thermals to make sure they were clear, just as they had been the last time she’d checked it, and sighed again. “He treated a wound given to me by one of those purple-armoured Elites, and we hashed out the fact that we’d been butting heads earlier. I told him that I wasn’t doing it on purpose, that I was just getting to know him, and he was fine with that. When he’d finished patching me up, he made this… well, I wouldn’t say the comment itself was strange, but the way he acted when he commented about the anger in my eyes… It was… odd.”

_“It’s in your eyes. There’s tragedy in them, and rage. So much rage…”_

That was the second time today that his voice had echoed in her mind. She wondered when the _last_ time would be. She should not have let it get to her so much, but it was frustrating. She still could not tell if he was getting under her skin on purpose or not, but he was succeeding all the same.

“What do you mean?” Kat queried, listening attentively.

“He was… He couldn’t stop staring at me, like he was looking at a painting, or _something_. And his voice went so soft when he told me that my eyes hold so much rage. I don’t understand it.” Even talking about it, she could not work out _why_ he’d said what he’d said, or the way he’d acted. It was puzzling. Of course, the next part was even harder to talk about it. She had to force the words out, no matter how much they tried to die in her throat. “When I bumped into him on the way to the armoury, he was fixated on my face _again_. He’d steadied me, and he wouldn’t let go. And then he… kissed me.” Her breathing was harsh, and the next lot of words came out fast, blurring together, and incomprehensible but somehow still making sense regardless. “Please, don’t tell anyone else what he did. It’s bad enough that he did it and I don’t even know _why_ , and I don’t think _he_ knew why, either. I just… I don’t want to talk about it as it is and I don’t want rumours to spread, and I… I….”

“ _Artemis_. Breathe. It’s alright. I promise I won’t tell anyone. I know how to keep a secret, and I would _never_ betray my sister.” Kat told her, gentle yet firm. “I’m going to mull this over to see if I can’t figure out what’s going on with him myself, and then I am going to talk about it to him. He’s not been himself lately; he’s very tired. With the way this war has been amping up, he has a lot to think about, and his mind is all over the place. But I’ll help you sort this out, I promise. No matter how much I care for him, I care for _you_ more because you were my first friend, and even my only friend for the longest time. And what he’s done… upsetting you… it isn’t right; I don’t like it any more than you do.”

Six gave the quietest of sighs, and checked the thermals one last time before scrambling down from the tree which had been her roost for the past two hours. “Just… Please don’t be too hard on the Commander. I don’t want him to… react in such a way that would wind up putting a strain on our relationship. Or yours, either, for that matter. There’s enough internal strife between Jorge and Emile to last half a lifetime. And I don’t think either of us would want to be on his bad side.”

* * *

With the patrol shift over, and still many hours of darkness left, Six was left to contemplate on what to do. Trying to stay awake seemed to be unwise; she needed to be combat ready at all times. She _could_ do as the others did, such as drinking a cup of coffee, or reading a book… But she doubted that either of those options would help her situation. Which meant that she would have to attempt to _sleep_. It wasn’t going to come easily to her; that she knew for sure. But there was no harm in trying.

And with that in mind, she stripped off the outer plating of her armour, deciding at the last moment to sleep in the black, form-fitting bodysuit. It was easier that way, she reasoned, since it fell in line with the urge to be ready for whatever the Covenant had to throw at her.

_If they just so happen to stumble across our base, I need to be ready._

The moment she clambered onto her bunk, tucking the sheets halfway up her body, she realized that she was genuinely tired. The fighting _had_ taken something out of her; the faintest smirk ghosted her lips as she smothered a yawn. So far, so good. Maybe witnessing her combat prowess in person would help make a good impression on the other Spartans. Only time would tell.

She curled up onto her flank, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Six jerked awake with a start. Her first thought was that of wondering what it was had waked her up. Her second thought was a realization of the fact that something felt _dreadfully wrong_. Something she couldn’t begin to explain…. a nameless, blind panic set in, overwhelming her.

The lone wolf felt like she couldn’t breathe, like the very air had been stolen from her lungs. Fear clawed at her chest, icy cold; her frame trembling like she’d been out in the snow and couldn’t get warm. Something within _ached_.

Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears – or was that the quiet thudding of footsteps? She couldn’t tell. The adrenaline flowed through her veins; flight or flight would kick in if she was unable to calm herself down.

“Lieutenant?”

It was Kat.

She blinked, fuzzy vision coming into focus, and saw the older woman looking at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. Why did the expression seem so familiar? She couldn’t remember.

When she tried to speak, all that escaped her was a strangled whine.

Kat reached out for her but stopped, brow furrowing, hand dropping limply to her side. “Six, what happened? Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know.” Out of the blue, tears began to spill down her cheeks, and she was helpless to stop them, to quell the burst of emotion that surged through her like a tidal wave. “I don’t _know_.”

“Artemis.” The Lieutenant Commander looked hesitant, but reached out regardless, perching on the edge of the bed and sliding an arm around her in half of an embrace. “Artemis, I…”

Something inside her _ached_. She didn’t hesitate to turn and hug Kat tightly, fingers pressing into the bodysuit, sobbing quietly into her shoulder. “Don’t leave me,” she said, shaky, “Please.”

“I-I won’t. I promise.” Kat's embrace tightened, and she rested her head atop the lone wolf's. “I’m not going anywhere, sister.”

B312 closed her eyes, her body finally relaxing. Something about Kat made her feel safe; perhaps it was a sense of old familiarity and friendship, from a time long ago. Here, she could let her guard down and sleep in safety. She knew the other Spartan would not leave her; instinct told her that she would keep her promise.

And with that echoing in her aching heart, she drifted off to sleep once more.

* * *

 

July 25, 10:45 Hours

 

In hindsight, hiding herself in the terrain _away_ from the base to take the call from COLD MOON had been a good idea. Six had wanted some place quiet to speak to her superiors, and in a location where the other Spartans had no chance of eavesdropping. And since the call had left her shaken and angry, she’d decided to play some music to calm herself down. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d found that music was soothing, and she’d often used it as a way to just _escape_ , even if only for a little while.

Of course, she couldn’t help that the song was particularly _catchy_ , and one that she enjoyed – and secretly thought that it fitted her. She just hadn’t expected anyone else to join in when she began to sing along.

“First things first, I’mma say all the words inside my head. I’m fired up, and tired of the way that things have been, oh ooh. The way that things have been, oh ooh.”

A decidedly masculine voice accompanied her when she hit the next verse, and it took her a beat to realize that it belonged to Warrant Officer Emile.

“Second things second, don’t you tell me what you think that I could be. I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea, oh ooh. The master of my sea, oh ooh.”

Six frowned and pecked at the datapad, the music snapping off. There was an _aww_ of disappointment from her as yet unseen companion, followed by a rustling of leaves from one of the nearby trees. A beat later, and the other Spartan dropped to the ground, shaking twigs from his hair as he went.

“Why’d you stop?”

The Lieutenant snorted at that, a noise of derisive amusement. “I don’t appreciate it when other people see the need to join in when I happen to be unconsciously singing along to whatever it is I’m listening to.” she said dryly, and this time, it was Emile’s turn to snort.

“Right. Like how you bit the Commander’s head off yesterday for doing that. Surprised you didn’t react the same way to me, by the way.”

“Maybe I’m feeling generous.” She gave him a sardonic smirk, which faded as quickly as it had appeared, before shaking her head. “I’m surprised you like this song anyway. I mean, Imagine Dragons? Something that most people consider to be “ancient Earth trash”?” There were audible air quotes around the words. “Doesn’t seem like your style.”

“ _Hah_. You’d be surprised at what you’ll come to learn about me over the course of this deployment, kid.” Emile said proudly, green eyes glinting with amusement.

Her proverbial hackles rose, bristling at the nickname, and she shifted towards him. “I am _not_ a kid. Last time I checked, I was born twenty years ago, which therefore makes me an adult.”

“I’m almost ten years your senior. So to me, you’re still a kid.” the assault specialist countered. “Seen more of this war than you have, seen more’n my fair share of fightin’ and dyin’.... So compared to you? Yeah, makes you seem real young.”

Six raised her hands and gave him a hard _shove_ , watching in satisfaction as he stumbled, lost his footing, and tumbled down the hill. She picked her way down to the bottom after him, her footwork displaying _far_ more grace than his decidedly _in_ elegant fall had. She smirked at him as she breezed past, flicking one hand over her shoulder in a wave, and headed towards the base.

When she stepped inside the prefabricated building, she was met by the Commander, who inclined head at her, and questioned, “Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, and he seemed somewhat hesitant, which was unusual behaviour, compared with what she’d read on his psych eval.

“About what?” She followed him into the war room, gaze focused on the door sliding shut behind them for a moment, before she met his gaze evenly. She crossed her arms over her chest, and noticed that his eyebrows were furrowed into a frown.

“My.... earlier behaviour. It was out of line, and for that, I apologize.” He paced towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “Kat was right when she said I’ve not been myself lately. This ongoing war is taking a lot out of everyone, myself included. I thought that you were.... someone else... and I projected. I should never have done that. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you need the reason behind my actions so that you don’t feel alienated. At least, I hope.”

That made an awful lot of sense, now that she thought about it.

B312 voiced a quiet sigh, shoulders dragging downward. “I forgive you, Commander.” Though her words were quiet, they hung heavy in the room. “I understand that it can’t be easy on you, leading a fireteam of five different Spartans, and the roster must change a lot, given the way the war has been amping up over the past couple of years. Just...” Another sigh, and she allowed another smirk to grace her lips, this one lingering. “Don’t get into my personal space again, okay? And _don’t_ go around kissing people you barely know. Cause uh, that shit’s pretty _weird_. I don’t care who you thought I was, that’s not something I want to go into. But damn, dude, cut yourself some slack.”

Carter turned back towards her, an eyebrow quirked in surprise. “Well, I can certainly try,” he said lightly, and looking for all the world like some weight had been lifted off him. “Are we on good terms, now? Or am I asking too much of you?”

“We’ll see about that, Commander. Give it another day or two, at least.” she allowed.

A quiet chuckle escaped the other Spartan, and he shook his head. “I suppose I’ll just have to deal with that one bit at a time. Now then…. How’d you like to spar with me?”


End file.
